Fireflies
by Dush-kins
Summary: "Botswana knew, Zimbabwe felt much more for her than just the ordinary, but she thought it best not bring it up, so she didn't." 10 instances in which Botswana had to stop herself.


**A/N:** Am I really going to be the first one to write about these two? :O

Seriously, I can't find anything on Botswana or Zimbabwe on this site. It would be understandable if they weren't canon, but they _are._ Well, to an extent; they come up on Gakuen Hetalia :P But still! Africa seriously needs some MOAR LUV!

So this story is centered around the pairing Zimbabwe/Botswana. The pairing isn't canon… well, at least not in Gakuen. It is canon historically, though! But this fic isn't history based! It's mostly character oriented, which is always a good thing xD

I have nothing else to say. On with the story!

**Disclaimer:** I am a starving artist. I don't own anything. The sooner you realize this, the better.

**Fireflies**

**1: Years**

When they first met each other, Botswana—then Bechuanaland—could've sworn that she saw sunshine itself sparkle in South Rhodesia's eyes.

"Hi," she could remember herself whispering shyly. She reached out timidly, her palm open towards South Rhodesia, in the nature of a handshake. "I'm Bechuanaland."

The other colony made no such gesture in return; she merely stared at her with wide eyes hungry with interest, her twin globes sparkling as if she were gazing into something bright. Diamonds. Gold. The sun. Bechuanaland retracted her hand and looked down, shuffling her feet awkwardly.

Years later, after they all gained their independence and the landscape of Africa changed for better or worse, Botswana would look back on that day and laugh at how timid she used to be. She'd changed a lot, going from a shy little colony to a strict—at times ever ruthless—business woman, the largest diamond exporter in the world. One of the only post-imperial African Nation not to be blighted by poverty and conflict and civil war. The dark cloud that covered Africa seemed not to affect her, her lands the one bright spot, and she knew that she couldn't be luckier.

(She wasn't very happy, but she knew that she was lucky and ought not to complain, so she didn't.)

South Rhodesia—who later became Zimbabwe—was not as fortunate. She had gone from a relatively prosperous colony under England's control to _the _poorest Nation in the world. Her people were starving. Her boss was a ruthless dictator. Being blighted by sanction after sanction imposed by the west did nothing to help.

But Zimbabwe hadn't changed in the same way Botswana did. She was still much the same person: she wore the same constant smile, still just as kind, and most of all, she still looked at Botswana with that same look in her eyes, as if she couldn't believe that someone so precious was even talking to her.

(Botswana knew, Zimbabwe felt much more for her than just the ordinary, but she thought it best not bring it up, so she didn't.)

**2: Hero**

"You gotta believe in the hero's, Botswana. The hero's and the martyrs' and the saviors and all those good folks who give themselves up, wholly and completely, for the sake of complete strangers. You gotta believe that they really exist."

And she looked at Botswana with grateful eyes that the latter did not deserve. _How can you believe in such things? No hero has ever saved you,_ she wanted to point out, but didn't.

**3: Women**

"I have a theory about Africa!" Zimbabwe piped up suddenly one day during a quiet afternoon.

"That's good," Botswana said shortly, not at all interested. She had a ton of paperwork to do, and most of it needed to get to her boss by the end of the day. She really didn't have time for—

Zimbabwe did not get the message. "Well, you notice how Africa is, you know, poor as shit? Well, I've been thinking about why that is, and I've come to a conclusion." She paused for a moment, perhaps for dramatic effect, though the other female in the room was barely listening. "I think it's because our boss' don't respect us."

She waited for a response, but when Botswana offered none, she continued. "Compared to other continents, Africa has a disproportionate number of female countries. And our bosses, they're all men, right? So they think that just because we're women, we can be taken advantage of easily. They think that they can take and take and take from us and our people, and not have to answer to anyone because we're women, and therefore _weak_ and _inferior_ and _stupid_ and all that bullshit. This is definitely the reason why!"

Botswana again remained quiet, and just as Zimbabwe was beginning to catch on that perhaps the other Nation really _wasn't _interested, Botswana mumbled, "I'm not poor."

"Well, I know _you_ aren't," Zimbabwe said with a grin. "You're Botswana. Your bosses know not to mess with you. But I'm talking about most of us. Like, I'll be the first to admit that I'm poor as hell. So is Zambia… I mean, my poor twin had all the potential in the world to be one of the wealthiest Nations in Africa, but look at her now. She's one of the poorest. And Congo! That poor bitch has all the resources in the world! She should be _loaded_, but she isn't. And they aren't the only ones." Zimbabwe began counting off countries on her fingers. "Angola. Burkina Faso. Togo. Chad. Namibia. Out of Africa's 46 countries, about 30-something are women. Africa is the poorest continent in the world. Put two and two together, Botswana! This is a classic case of pure, unadulterated sexism and misogyny, and it's gotta stop. _Now._"

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Botswana inquired, never once looking up from her paperwork.

Zimbabwe sighed, leaning back in her chair. After a few moments of silence, she said, "Give me a few days to figure that one out. I'm pretty sure the solution is gonna have to require finding the cure for AIDS, but hey." She shrugged in an offhandish manner. "We're women. We can do anything, when we put our minds to it."

_Women… Zimbabwe really seemed to like them,_ Botswana thought to herself. _More that she should._

**4: Clouds**

"And that one looks like a bunny, and that one looks like a machete, that one looks like the corn on my left foot, and that _other one_ looks like—"

"Me, smashing your face in."

"… you're right, Botswana! It does!"

Botswana looked at her, suppressed a smile, opened her mouth to say something. Then stopped herself.

**5: Snow**

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

Zimbabwe and Botswana looked up towards the sky, England's sky, and watched as snowflakes drifted down from the heavens softly, otherworldly entities in themselves. Zimbabwe smiled crookedly. "It's like they're little tiny angels sent down from God. Every one that lands and melts on us is another blessing."

Botswana rolled her eyes. "Only you would think of it that way. It's just frozen water."

In response, the Zimbabwean wrapped her arms around the other female's shoulders. Botswana craned her head to look up at her, and Zimbabwe mumbled, "You're lips. They're frozen."

And as she bent down, her face coming closer, determinted to correct this injustice, the Motswana could only think of how only Zimbabwe could make her feel so warm in temperatures below freezing. She shoved the taller Nation away from her a moment later. Did her best to act disgusted.

**6: Keeper**

_If you're in a bad mood…_

"Jesus Christ, will you _shut the fuck up, _Zimbabwe! Sheesh! Your voice is like nails on a chalkboard!"

Zimbabwe said nothing, which in this situation acted as an apology.

_If your hair and makeup aren't done…_

"Um, sorry I look like shit."

Zimbabwe looked at Botswana, whose hair loose and a complete mess. She had no makeup on. She also looked more than a bit embarrassed.

Her neighbor raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't you do your face?"

"I donno," the female Nation shrugged. "I just didn't feel like it today. I didn't know that you'd be coming over, though."

Zimbabwe smiled and shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You look great either way."

_If you're sad to the point that you can barely breathe…_

One minute, they were eating dinner. Then, Botswana burst into tears.

"B-Botswana!" Zimbabwe exclaimed, jumping out of her chair. She reached over across the table and placed her hand over Botswana's, and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I... I…"

"Yeah?"

"I don't know! I-it's just… everything!"

Botswana half expected Zimbabwe to laugh at her, or worse yet, scold her. She was a thousand times more prosperous than Zimbabwe; how dare she cry over anything, let alone _everything?_

But all Zimbabwe did was wipe away her tears.

_And he's still by your side…_

"If I have fifty dollars, you have fifty dollars. If I have any resources, then so do you. If I find something precious, like oil or gold or the cure to AIDS, then my good luck is yours as well. All that is mine will always be yours."

Despite all evidence to the contrary, it was Zimbabwe who assured this to Botswana.

_Then you know…_

One day, out in the sunshine, Botswana looked up at Zimbabwe, and it was as if she was looking at her neighbor for the first time.

Zimbabwe was tall, with broad shoulders and large hands. Her breasts were two perfect mounds proportioned to hips accordingly, with legs so long that it was as if they went on forever. Zimbabwe's eyes were wide and grey, with full lips complimented by high cheekbones. And the way that she started up into the sun, with such a beautiful and carefree grin on her face… she truly bore the look of a Nation with no problems.

Which was funny, because few Nations had problems bigger than Zimbabwe's.

Without ever turning to look at her, Zimbabwe asked, "Why are you staring at me, Botswana?"

Said Nation jumped up, startled. "H-how did you…?"

The Zimbabwean turned to her and said in all confidence, "Because, God always tells me when the apple of my eye is looking at me."

_He's a keeper._

**7: Breaking**

Botswana came home one day to find Zimbabwe cutting at her forearm with a knife, carving off slices of her skin as one might carve a turkey. Her eyes were wide and crazed, mumbled incoherently to herself as blood dripped from her and onto the floor.

"ZIMBABWE!" the Motswana ran over to the other Nation, grabbed her from behind in a desperate attempt to stop her from doing whatever it was she was trying to do. Her arm was a mess of blood, and it all looked very painful, but even so, Zimbabwe struggled in Botswana's grasp, desperate to continue mutilating herself.

"_STOP!"_ Botswana cried desperately. _"STOP IT!" _

"N-n-no! Botswana, Botswana, you don't understand! I have to cut it off! I'm so _filthy_, Botswana! So, so, so dirty!"

"From what?"

"Everything I'm so dirty it pricks at my skin my skin is filthy I have to remove_ takeitofftakeitofftakeitoff!"_

"What are you talking about?" Botswana could feel the tears sliding down her face, hot and fat and wet. She had never seen Zimbabwe in such a state before, and it was scaring her. No major artery had been hit, but even so, Botswana knew, she _knew_, that Zimbabwe had been trying to do more than just take off her skin. "Please, Zimbabwe, please, please, don't do this! _Please!"_

Zimbabwe said nothing; she only began to scream_. _That and continue to struggle futilely in Botswana's grasp.

"Please, you aren't filthy, you aren't dirty! You're just fine just the way you are! You're brilliant and beautiful and the finest women I know, so please, _please,_ don't do this! _Don't do this to me!"_

Zimbabwe fell to her knees, bringing Botswana with her. She soon tired herself out physically, but continued to scream until her voice tired out as well. And then, she only sobbed, as Botswana wrapped gauze around her arm and kissed her face and told her that she wouldn't know what she'd do without her.

**8: Destroy**

Botswana first noticed the pressure.

She noticed how the air around her became thick, how bloated she felt. How she couldn't make herself run, fly upon her feet like she used to. She would look into the mirror and her eyes no longer shone like diamonds, but were dull and flat like that of an ordinary Nation. Her skin was beginning to dry. Her hair was falling out.

She did not understand. Her people were fine, her there was no internal strife, her diamond trade was as strong as ever, her economy—

Wasn't doing so well. But this made no sense.

It was around this time that her boss began to talk about her northern border. With Zimbabwe. It appeared as if, with Zimbabwe's collapsing economy, her people were flooding in by the thousand into Botswana. Some moved on to South Africa, but for every one that left another two stayed. And Botswana could only marvel at her own obliviousness, at how she hadn't noticed before.

So, she built a fence. One with electric barb wire. One guarded by her soldiers. One that could not be crossed.

It wasn't long before Zimbabwe burst in through her office window, quite literally; there was glass everywhere and the Motswana had been more than a bit startled by the other Nations theatrics. Instead of the same crooked smile that she always wore, however, there was an angry frown. "Are you trying to fucking kill them?"

After getting over her initial shock (it didn't take that long), Botswana's features settled back into its usual poker face. "Am I trying to kill who?"

"Don't play dumb! And electric fence… who the hell ever heard of that!"

"India and Pakistan have one around their boarder," Botswana pointed out. "So do Morocco and West Sahara. And don't even get me started on North and South Korea…"

"So what? We aren't any of them! We aren't like them!" Zimbabwe stalked over to her, an uncharacteristically dark look on her face. "We've never been to war. We don't hate each other. Or, at least, I don't hate you. Why are you threatening to kill them?"

Botswana sighed and set aside her paperwork. "I'm not threatening to kill anyone. I'm just trying to do something about the _thousands and thousands _of refugees that keep coming into my territory every week. It isn't my fault that your economy isn't doing well; why should I have so suffer?"

"Oh, so that's it. Poor little Botswana doesn't want to suffer, so she's just going to let my people starve to death!" Zimbabwe angrily reached into her pocket, and took out a crumpled up piece of paper. A Zimbabwean dollar. "Look at this! Look at this shit!" She all but threw it at the Motswana, who smoothed it out upon her desk to examine it.

Her new trillionth dollar bill. This was an all-time low.

"You know what I can but with one of those?" Zimbabwe asked, a miserable look on her face. "_Nothing_. Not with just one. I need about a good four or five trillion dollars just to buy some loaves of bread, and some _clean_ water. I've seen kids lugging around stacks of these, all around and even in Harare. I've heard of guys wiping their asses with these, because it would cost more to buy toilet paper. My money is worthless, the most worthless in the world. Do you really think that so many would be escaping to you, beautiful _you_, unless they really had to? Why else would they risk their lives and leave everything, their whole lives, behind?"

The other Nation sighed heavily; Zimbabwe was not understanding. "I know about your economic situation. I know. But, like I said, _it isn't my fault._ What's wrong with you? I can't pay the price for your mistakes! My own economy is beginning to suffer because of the sudden increase in population. I've been in pain for _weeks _now—"

"_And I'm not in pain?"_ Zimbabwe shrilled incuriously.

Botswana clenched a fist, her lips settling into a hard, thin line. She was beginning to lose her patience. "I have no doubt that you are in pain. I just don't understand why I have to be in pain, too." She cracked a cynical smile. "This isn't socialism that we're talking about here. Just because you hurt, doesn't mean I have to."

"You keep on using the _same damn argument!"_ Zimbabwe roared. "Have some compassion! They have nowhere else to go, and it's not as if you can't handle more people. You don't have _that _many of your own. Your acting as if I'm trying to dump my entire population on you—"

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but you've always been the type to take the yard when offered the inch. I can't just open my boarders as if it's nothing! Then they'd all come flooding in! And I'd be in big trouble."

"But I _am_ in big trouble. And you're still unwilling to help me out. I expected more from you. _You are so fucking selfish._"

"You know," Botswana slowly sat up, the sparkle in her eyes fading to black. "For someone who's always claiming to love me, _be _in love with me, you sure don't act it."

There. She said it. All her life, she held it back. But now, she finally let it be known, the she knew how Zimbabwe felt. And she expected the taller Nation to deny it, or wave it off just as she always did with the truth, but as always Zimbabwe did the thing that was least expected of her.

"Yeah, I am. I've always loved you. But you don't feel the same." Zimbabwe smiled, wide and hopeless, her eyes the grey storm that was engulfing her life. "Story of my life. No one ever loves me back."

Fifteen minutes later, and Botswana was still staring at the door, wide open from when Zimbabwe had stormed out. And she was still trying to convince herself in her head that the taller Nation would be back. That she would find a way over the fence. That she wouldn't stay angry at her forever.

_She'll come back. Zimbabwe always comes back. Ever since we were little. She'll be back._

**9: Somebody's Somebody**

Zimbabwe has grown so _thin_.

To the point that it was unflattering.

Botswana could remember a time when Zimbabwe had been much healthier. Not fat, but also not emaciated as she was now. Thirty years ago, she had been healthy. Now, she was anything but.

Botswana looked into the wan face of her neighbor to the north, and could only think of one word: _withering. _

Zimbabwe stared back at her, her stony grey eyes filling with mirth. She offered Botswana a crooked smile as she brought up a hand to stroke the side of her face.

You're beautiful, she said.

Botswana closed her eyes and leaned into Zimbabwe's touch, suddenly grateful for an affection that she'd received for almost all her life. Back when they were only Bechuanaland and South Rhodesia, and maybe even before that, too. Always, Zimbabwe loved her. Always. But suddenly, that constant source of unconditional love seemed fleeting, as if the other Nation could disappear and be gone forever with a sudden gust of wind, a rainy night.

The Motswana soon found herself bringing up her own hand, reaching up towards the much taller Nation. She placed her hand on the back of Zimbabwe's neck and slowly pulled her down, to meet her lips, but—

All that greeted her was a brush of cool air. Botswana opened her eyes and saw nothing.

**10: Charm**

On September 29, 2010, just as the sun was beginning its descent down the plains of Gaborone, Botswana stood leaned up against the front door of her house. She watched the sunset with an unwavering eye; let the light breeze run through her hair. It was quite the peaceful moment: the birds chirping away in the distance, the soft breeze, how pink and orange and yellow all melded together as the sun sank into the world. She sighed with content, and for a rare moment Botswana was completely at peace.

And then Zimbabwe showed up.

"Hey, baby girl!" she pulled Botswana into an unceremonious hug from behind, squeezing her thin shoulders in the embrace of her long arms. "Guess what?"

"What."

"Tomorrow's your birthday, duh! What do you want me to get you?"

_Like you can afford to get me anything._ "I don't want anything. I'm content with what I have."

"Nonsense! Everyone wants something. C'mon, what's you're deepest heart's desire?" She followed Botswana's gaze, saw that she how she was looking at the sunset. "You want that? The sun?" Zimbabwe pointed out to the setting fire globe. "I can get that for you, if you want. I'll take it in my arms and bring it just for you, so that the sun'll always shine on Gaborone."

Botswana closed her eyes, a cynical smile growing on her thin lips. "You don't need to bring me the whole sun. Just bring me some sunlight in a jar. I'll be happy with that."

"Sunlight in a jar, huh? Okay." Botswana felt the arms around her shoulders slide down along her torso, her hips, until Zimbabwe let her go completely. And then, suddenly, the most brilliant idea came to Botswana.

"Zimbabwe!"

The poorest Nation in all the world, one who could afford nothing but still promised everything, turned around upon her hearing her love's voice. "Yeah?"

"You promise me, you'll bring me my sunlight?"

"Yup. Swear on everything I am."

"If you don't get it for me, don't bother coming to my house ever again. I don't appreciate broken promises."

Zimbabwe chortled. "Wow, you're really playing hard ball, aren't ya? Don't worry about it, girl. I'll bring you all the sunshine you could ever want."

"For your sake, you'd better be right." Botswana quipped.

The next day, September 30, Nations from all over the world came to Botswana's house to wish her a happy birthday. China, India, Switzerland, Mexico, Brazil, America, even England. They each gave her gifts, all unique and beautiful and very expensive. She accepted them all with the sincerest of smiles. They all stood until dark, keeping the normally lonely country company on the anniversary of her independence. But as they were all about to leave, the last guest, the Nation who always stood just on the peripheral edge of Botswana's mind, literally burst in through the front door.

"Don't you ever knock?" Botswana asked flatly, trying (and succeeding) to hide the supreme and unjustifiable happiness that she felt upon seeing Zimbabwe's face. All the other Nations stood by, all slightly stunned by Zimbabwe's bombastic entrance, not realizing that she could be far more dramatic when she felt like it. She wore a great, wide smile that reminded Botswana of the day they first met all those hundreds of years ago. The same exact crooked smile.

Zimbabwe looked at Botswana with eyes alit with pride. She slowly sauntered over, her hands behind her back. "Zimbabwe will always keep her promises to Botswana." And with that, she brought her hands out from behind and presented to the other Nation her birthday present.

All the other Nations in the room all gasped and sighed in wonder of it, the simplistic sincerity of what Zimbabwe had done. There was something about it that out the rest of their gifts to shame. Botswana sat there, speechless, while Zimbabwe placed the gift in her hands.

A jar filled with fireflies. A jar full of sunshine.

Botswana looked at Zimbabwe then, _really_ looked, and at that moment, she forgot all that Zimbabwe had done to her, all the problems and the heartache and burden. All she saw then was endurance of her unconditional love, and Botswana was as happy as anyone in love could ever be.

**A/N:** It's done. Now, for explanations on the minor historical references I made:

Zimbabwe, prior to independence from England, was called South Rhodesia. Botswana, similarly, was referred to as Bechuanaland.

As of right now, 2011, Zimbabwe is _the _poorest country in the entire world. This is mostly due to the hyperinflation of the Zimbabwean dollar note. In layman's terms, this means that the government is printing more money than can back up by gold, silver, or international reputation. In that case, more money that's printed, the less valuable it becomes. People in Zimbabwe literally have to carry stacks of money around with them whenever they go shopping, because the money is worth virtually nothing. The inflation rate is somewhere around 6 trillion percent. Zimbabwe is also a dictatorship, ruled by autocrat Robert Mugabe, who doesn't quite seem to care that his country is doing so poorly; at the end of the day, he's still rich, after all.

Botswana is the exact opposite. This country is often referred to as Africa's number one "success story". A democratic Nation since independence, unlike many African Nations Botswana has never suffered a civil a war or any major internal unrest. Botswana is also the largest diamond exporter in the world, and unlike other diamond-rich Nations, the trade has always been professionally regulated (so no "blood diamonds for Botswana ^_^)

The connection between these two has a lot to do with similarities in culture, a closeness during colonial rule, and the amount of Zimbabwean refugees that come into Botswana. Botswana has also been known to defend Zimbabwe on the international stage, because as a dictatorship, the West just loves to impose sanctions on Zimbabwe, despite the fact that she can't get much poorer at this point.

In Zimbabwe, male homosexuality is illegal, while lesbianism is overlooked. In Botswana, both male and female homosexuality is illegal. So, this is why I pretty much had Zimbabwe be more open about her feelings, while Botswana tried (well, still continues to try) to cover hers up.

And that's it. Hope I did this pairing some justice. Maybe I'll write more about them in the future? ^_^


End file.
